Love Letters
by Gypsy3
Summary: ** COMPLETED!! ** A fluffy bit of writing... Frank's getting anonymous love letters...
1. The First Letter

Title: Love Letters

Author:  Gypsy

Comments: Sure. Flames and Kisses are welcome all the same.  gypsybaby1@attbi.com

Spoilers: None.

Archive: Please ask first.

Summary: Frank's receiving mysterious love letters.  Will the written word prove to indeed be more powerful than the sword?

Disclaimers: The characters (Donovan, Jake, Alex, Cody, and Quito) involved the property of NBC Entertainment, a division of the National Broadcasting Company. No copyright infringement is intended. Original characters - however, are the property of the author.   So this means you can't sue me.  Unless you want my car payment, collection of river rocks, unique goblets and our clones... who only mind me...

****

_'How do I say this.. Words are difficult sometimes, hard to express what you truly feel.  So many different ways to say one thing.  So I'll just take a deep breath and plunge ahead._

_'For months now I have watched you.  Please don't be freaked out by that.  Instead, be flattered.  You have a secret admirer, one who breathes in your beauty like the very air around me.  Yes, I said 'beauty'.  You are beautiful, a feast for the eyes and the senses.  I could fill pages and pages of your attributes.  Perhaps I should start with your mouth._

_'Your mouth... It is what first drew me to you.  A soft and full lower lip.  You toy with that lower lip when you are in deep thought.  You lick it absently while working on something.  Your teeth graze over it while you pace.  God help me, I wish that I could taste that lower lip after you have had a sip of wine, a taste of honey or even a bite of fruit._

_'Probably as you read this letter, you're touching your lower lip with your first two fingers, musing over who would be sending this sort of letter to you.  Am I correct?  I know I am, I've watched you do the same thing over other things, like you're trying to take apart a puzzle in your mind and gently running your fingers over your mouth is what keeps you grounded in that puzzlement._

_'The very thought of you touching your lip sends shivers racing up and down my spine.  How can I control these thoughts?  I cannot, I have come to realize.  There is no control.  Like a raft adrift in a raging river, I am simply lost to the current when my thoughts turn to you.  I can only hope that I'll find safe shore someday._

_'With Hope'_

Frank looked at the letter again as it sat on his desk.  He'd received it last night under his apartment door.  The paper was a good quality and lightly scented with something spicy yet soft.  The handwriting was elegant and easy to read with the softly shimmering purple ink.  His psychology background told him that this woman wasn't a psychotic or a sociopath.  She was educated, intelligent, socially adept and... seeming entranced by him.  For the hundredth time he shook his head.  He'd been mulling over the letter since he opened it last night.  Who was she?  WHERE was she that she could see all of the things she said in that letter?  How did she know about his little habits?

"Whatcha got there Bossman?"

"Nothing that concerns you Cody." Frank reached for the letter.  However, before he could get it, Cody's fingers plucked it up off of the desk and he plopped down in a chair to read it.

Frank groaned and sat back as Cody's lips puckered into a whistle.  "Damn, lady's got the hots for you Bossman.  So...?"

"So, what Cody?"

"Give me the details and such.  Height, weight, hair, eyes, looks, likes, dislikes, why she's hung up on you of all people..."

"Cody... it's an anonymous letter, do you see a name anywhere on that letter?"  At Cody's 'oh doy' look, Frank reached over the desk and plucked the letter from Cody's fingers.  "Now, I would appreciate it if you got to whatever business you have with me."

As Cody shrugged and got down to what he was in to see Frank about, Frank sat back and listened to the whole run-down.  His mind was elsewhere, mulling over the paradox of his admirer.  He nodded occasionally when it was appropriate and made the occasional 'hmm's or 'uh-huh's.  By the end of the conversation, Cody was throwing in Playboy of the Month statistics and reciting HTML Coding.  He ended with 'and a partridge in a pear tree'.

"All right Cody, thank you for the report.  I'll expect to hear from Jake and Alex on their files later."  Frank said as he leaned over the desk and picked up the manila file jacket Cody had dropped when he came in.

Cody chuckled and stood up.  "Hey Frank."

"Yes Cody."  By now, he was getting a little irritated at the computer guru.

"If you're that interested, why don't you ask some of your neighbors if they've seen this mystery woman?"

****


	2. The Second Letter

****

When Frank arrived home that night, he found another letter at his door.  He couldn't fight the smile that curved across his lips as he breathed in the light spiced fragrance that wafted up from the envelope.  His admirer had made her mark again on his life, this time in shimmering green ink.

_'It is strange to think, I have not ever met you in person, but I feel as if I know you.  I have seen the new moon come and go, but not you personally. I have seen sunsets and sunrises, but nothing they can not compare to what I feel when I happen to glimpse your handsomeness by the light of the moon.  If I could ask for one thing, it would be to stop the moon. Stop the moon and make the night and your beauty last forever. _

_'The thought of seeing you by moonlight is what guides me through the day.  I ache to touch your cheek softly, to look into your eyes and see what secrets lie behind them.  To look into your eyes and see the mysteries of what you are... Your's are the windows to your soul, and what a soul I have seen._

_'You close your eyes only when you are truly alone and can relax.  What day's stresses that are heaped upon you are only let go at the soft music of your stereo.  What music is it that entrances you, enthralls you?  Is it blues... perhaps classic jazz.  Something that is all that you are.  What kind of song are you in the melody of life?_

_'The moonlight sings it's silent melody every night, the silvery glow lighting the way.  I watch and dream... and hope.  Love should end with hope, if this is love._

_'With Hope'_

Frank smiled broadly, touching his lower lip absently as he looked around his apartment.  This woman was truly keenly aware of his habits and his little eccentricities.  He did indeed only close his eyes when he felt completely alone.  And he did listen to classic jazz when he had the time.

This admirer, what was she like?  He sank down into the comfortable wingback chair near the fireplace as he mulled over the letter and it's writer.  She was a romantic, that much he knew just by reading to her words.  And she loved watching him too.  She had to be close by in order to see him.

His thoughts were jarred by the ringing of the phone.

"Hello?"

"Sorry to disturb you at home Bossman, but we got us a Priority One."

Frank sighed.  "All right, I'll be back in as soon as I can.  Call the rest of the team."

"Gotcha.  Hey, Frank?"

"Yes Cody?"

"She wrote you again, didn't she?"

"What makes you think that?"

"I can hear it in your voice."

"Call the rest of the team, I'm on my way in."

There was a chuckle as Cody gave his 'OK' and hung up.  Frank looked at the letter in his hand before putting it on his desk.  "Another night, hopeful one."

****


	3. Letters Awaiting

****

A week later found Frank dragging his tired self into his apartment building in the dead of night.  The phone call from Cody set off a chain of events that sent them to D. C. for a week on Bureau business.

"Well, Good Lord Mr. Donovan!  You look like hell!" Gerard, the doorman said quietly as Frank passed by him towards the elevators.

"It's been a long week Gerard.  Anything exciting happen while I was gone?"

"Nothing much Mr. Donovan.  I see you've got some letters dropped at your door while you were gone."

Frank stopped and turned around.  "Really?  You didn't happen to see who dropped them, did you?"

Gerard looked up and to the side while he thought.  "Nope, sorry Mr. Donovan.  All I saw was the pile of envelopes at the base of the door."

"Thank You Gerard.  Take it easy."  Frank sighed as he punched the button to call the elevator.  With another smile to Gerard, Frank leaned against the back wall of the elevator as he rode up to his floor.  More letters... 

He opened up his door and found a week's worth of letters.  Hope had been busy.  He'd taken to calling her 'Hope' in his mind because she'd signed her last two letters 'with hope'.  Fluidly he scooped up all eight of the letters and headed off to the bedroom.

One by one he opened them.  There were no dates on the letters, just her words filling the pages.  Some of them were written with the same pearly green ink, some with the pearly purple ink.  There was one, however, that he could tell was the newest.  There was a blotch of ink at the bottom and when he opened it, the ink came off on his index finger.

Carefully he rubbed his finger and thumb together.  The scent of what he thought to be cinnamon or something else spicy wafted up to his nose.  So, the ink itself was scented, not the paper.  He looked at the ink on his fingers now.  This one was black and iridescent.  He could see a rainbow in the black coloring that darkened the pads of his thumb and forefinger.

He set that letter to the side on the bed, letting it dry completely while he read the others more carefully.  The words lifted off the page and wrapped around his mind and heart.  Someone, with no personal knowledge of him, that had never met him or heard his voice, was seemingly so entranced by him.  The very thought brought a self-satisfied smile to his lips.  Frank knew that he was attractive to women.  That fact made itself evident each time he went out in public.  Women couldn't help but stare open-mouthed at him.  But to see these words from a complete stranger, the words describing him in such a fashion... he felt so flattered.

This was probably the most romantic thing he'd ever experienced in his chaotic life.  His chaotic life... the thought brought him back to reality for a moment.  This person knew nothing about him but what she could see.  She could know nothing of what he was that his life was in danger with each assignment he took for his team, that each time he himself went on assignment.  All she knew was a handsome face.  Frank sobered up a bit and looked at the letters littering his bed.  There was one he hadn't read yet - the only one in black ink.

Hastily he gathered up the other letters and stacked them up neatly.  Where was it?  He flipped through the pages again, looking for the aberration in color.  It was missing.  For a moment he felt panic.  He'd lost one of her letters.  'Think Donovan... it can't have gotten far' he reminded himself.  However, when he got on his hands and knees to look under the bed for it, he couldn't find one trace of it.

"What the hell..." he sighed as he sat back.  "It was just here."  With a growl of frustration, he got up and pulled the sheets back on the bed.  It was a far-fetched chance, but anything was possible.  As he pulled the pillows up, he spotted the letter lying under the pillow on the other side of the bed from where he slept.  Strange coincidence, he mused, as he sat down to read it.  Carefully he leaned back against the pillows and the headboard as his chocolate colored eyes flicked over the writing.

_'I have not seen you in a week and I begin to worry about you.  What has taken you away for such a time?  Not seeing you is like not seeing the sunlight for too long.  Flowers begin to wilt, spirits begin to dampen and hope begins to flag.  One wonders if there is ever a light to the darkness when the sun goes away._

_'Again it is hope that guides me through the day.  Hope that you will return, Hope that you are well, Hope that I have not in some small way offended you with these letters.  And it is Hope that makes me believe it will not be the last time that I look upon you._

_'With Hope'_

Frank blinked.  She was worried about him.  As he looked around, he began to think.  She should get an answer.  But if she was close enough to notice that he was gone for so long, then she would also know that he was home again by the light shining in his bedroom.

A thought crept into his mind.  He reached over and turned out the light, then crept to the window and looked out.  So many places she could be.  He was on the top floor of his apartment building and there were many more buildings behind this one that could look into his bedroom window.

Which window out there held his Hope?

****


	4. Alex's Offer

****

"Ever thought about dusting the envelopes for prints?"

Frank looked up with a sick look on his face.

Cody chuckled as he closed the door behind him and sat down.  "Boss... you've been getting these letters for over a week now.  But you still do not know who she is.  Why not even the field a bit and lift her prints off the envelopes or letters?"

"Cody, that's completely -"

"Unromantic?  Well, hell's belles, the Iceman has a heart!"  Cody laughed heartily at that, much to Frank's chagrin.

But the more he thought about it, the more he thought it wouldn't be so bad.  Except it would ruin one of the letters to do so.  Even if he used the tape, then lifted what he could from the tape, it'd still ruin the whole thing.  Besides, he felt rather dirty at the mere thought of being that invasive.

"When she wants me to know who she is, she will reveal herself, Cody."

"Man, you've got a lot more patience than I do.  At the first one I'd have dusted it.  Never can tell with some people out there.  Just be careful, OK?  I'd hate to think that a 'Fatal Attraction' whacked Mr. BulletProof.

Frank chuckled to himself as Cody left his office.  Once the door closed, he opened one of the drawers in his desk and took out the few pieces of paper he had.  He'd wadded up and thrown out more attempts at replies than he cared to think about.  He might be an expert negotiator, but this wasn't his normal realm.

He was so deep in his own thoughts about what to say that he didn't hear Alex knock on the door.  Nor did he hear her when she opened it and stood in the doorway.

"Frank?"

Frank was so startled, that he literally jumped out of his chair and sent the loose sheets of paper flying to the floor.  Alex had to bite down on her lips to keep from laughing.

"Whatcha got there Bossman?"

"Nothing Alex."  At Alex's non-believing look, he sighed.  "I was trying to write a letter."

"Sounds difficult."

Frank raised an eyebrow at the sarcasm.  "If you can't help, then please leave and let me get on with it."

"Frank, you write letters and memos 50 times a day.  Why should this one be different?"

"Because it's not business, Alex.  It's personal."

"Ohhhhhh, so THIS is what Cody's been grinning about for the last few hours."  She ignored the black look he gave her and sat down.  "So, you've got a secret admirer with a fetish for your mouth.  At least that's what Cody said was in the first letter, all about your lower lip.  She's right you know.  You do have a rather sexy lower lip.  If you were my type and not my boss, I could suck your lower lip for hours."

Frank sat there, his mouth hanging open.  Did Alex just say what he thought she said?

"My God.  The man is speechless.  Too bad no one else is here to witness this.  Frank..."

"Yes, Alex?"

"Would you like some help writing this letter?"

"The thought is appreciated, Alex.  But I don't think so.  If I can't come up with something, then perhaps I'll get your help tomorrow."

"Very well Frank.  Good Luck."

****


	5. Welcome Home Frank

****

_'I see that you are home again.  I pray that your travels went well for you.  Was it business or pleasure that took you away for a week?  Perhaps it was pleasure, a tropical locale next to the beach where you could walk barefoot in the sand.  I can well imagine that your feet and toes are as long and slender as your fingers are.  But a steely strength lies under those fingers.  A touch... A fantasy, A prayer, A kiss.  Everything you feel, you express through your hands._

_'What is it about you that enthralls me so?  Would that I could conjure the bravado to come talk to you face to face, to hear your voice from your lips.  What heavens could I touch if I were to look into your eyes, to hear a whisper from your lips.  I would spend a year in silence just to better understand the sound of a whisper from your lips.  From a throat so strong and over lips so tender, I would imagine your voice to be silky yet steely at the same time.  Perhaps exotic to match your looks...  But a whisper from your lips could at once melt ice and fan the flames of passion.  Am I imagining things, my mysterious gentleman?  Would that I had a name to put with your mouth, your eyes, your throat._

_'Perhaps there is nothing to say anymore... Thinking of you, dreaming of your fingers grazing over my jawline, leaves me speechless.  Here I am, writing long flowery letters to you... You who even without knowing it can leave me both breathless and gasping for more.  Is this insanity that plagues me now?  I don't know, I don't care.  I must be insane, for what else can it be called?  I dream about your fingers touching my skin, your breath fanning over my throat, my lips, and your lips touching mine._

_'You must think I am mad.  Perhaps I have finally crossed the thin line between admiration of you and making you uncomfortable.  If I have, I beg your forgiveness.  Perhaps, one day, I will work up the courage to knock on your door._

_'With Hope'_

Frank sat back in his bed, the letter drifting down across his lap.  "No, dear Hope... I am not uncomfortable by what you have written.  I am intrigued that you could know so much about me, yet never have met me."  He slid out of the sheets and walked to the window.  The light was still on as he leaned one arm up against the window frame and looked out at the night sky with it's thousands and thousands of dotted lights in the horizon.

"Where are you Hope?  What is your name?  I hope that you do not mind me calling you 'Hope' as that is what you have expressed in all of your letters.  I am amazed that for someone you do not know, you are so entranced.  You say that it is hope that guides you through the day, the hope of seeing me again through my window.  Well, Hope, it is you that guides me through the day, the hope of finding another of your sweetly scented letters under my door, the hope that I can read your words and smile peacefully for once.  Your words are the light in what darkness my day brings to me.  You say that the thought of me leaves you breathless?  Your words leave me breathless, dear Hope."

Frank turned around, looking at the letter that lay on the bed where he'd been sitting.  Another smile crept across his lips as he turned from the window and walked into the next room where he had his desk.

****


	6. A Chance Encounter

****

Footsteps clicked evenly down the hallway, even on the carpeting.  As the footsteps reached his apartment door, they slowed and came to a stop.  There, on the floor where she normally dropped her letters, was a letter lying at the toes of her high-heeled sandals.

Carefully the woman knelt down, the fluid hem of her light skirt ruffling in the air currents generated by the movement.  The hem of a short trenchcoat puddled on the ground as a slender hand first dropped her letter to him then picked up the other letter.  On the front, in black ink were the words "With Hope".  In an unwitting echo of his own movement, the fingers of her free hand came to her own lips.

"With Hope..." she whispered.  He had written her back...  She stayed there for a moment, her head bent and a few auburn spirals dangling over her temples as she looked at the envelope now lying across her knees.  The crisp white paper contrasted sharply against the black georgette skirt.

Slowly she stood up, the hem fluttering as she did until it fell just above her knees.  One hand held the letter as she stared at it, the other hand pressed against her stomach as if to stifle the butterflies and knots she could feel forming.  He'd written her a letter.  Was it a good letter?  Or would she feel three inches tall after reading it?  After all, he didn't know her from Eve and perhaps he was seeing someone.

She turned the envelope over and pulled open then flap.  The bundle of other mail in her hand was shifted to the crook of her elbow as she unfolded the letter itself and began to read.  Her feet were rooted to the spot as her pale green eyes flicked over the words.

_'As I sat reading your letter last night, Hope, I found myself needing to respond to you.  I pray you do not find fault with my calling you Hope, for that is what I think of when I read your letters.  You sign them 'with hope'.  You have written that I give you hope... well, you have given me hope that the world is not as ugly and cruel as I have seen it to be at times.'_

She slowly turned around and began walking back the way she came, her head bent over the letter in her hand and oblivious to anyone walking by.  Her eyes welled with tears at the kind things he'd written so far...

_'No, dear Hope... I am not uncomfortable by what you have written.  I am intrigued that you could know so much about me, yet never have met me.  Where are you Hope?  What is your name?'_

Absently her hand reached for the buttons on the elevator.  She sniffled slightly.  He wanted to know her name, where she was.  Oh if she could only screw up her courage to the sticking place and knock on his door tonight after he returned home.

_'I am amazed that for someone you do not know, you are so entranced.  You say that it is hope that guides you through the day, the hope of seeing me again through my window.  Well, Hope, it is you that guides me through the day, the hope of finding another of your sweetly scented letters under my door, the hope that I can read your words and smile peacefully for once.  Your words are the light in what darkness my day brings to me.  You say that the thought of me leaves you breathless?  Your words leave me breathless, dear Hope.'_

_'As you have signed, so shall I - With Hope._

_'Frank'_

She sighed softly at the words.  With Hope... His name was Frank.  Again she read the words, this time speaking them as softly as a whisper.  At the same time, the soft 'ding' of the elevator chimed and she stepped forward... right into the solid chest of someone else exiting the elevator.

"I'm so sorry Miss."  A pair of hands caught her by the shoulders and steadied her.

"It's all right, I should have looked where I was going," she said easily as she folded the letter and stuffed it into the stack of mail she'd picked up from her mail box.

"You OK then?  I didn't jar you too hard?"  

His was a smooth mellow voice, accented and rich.  Just what she pictured Frank's to sound like.  Inside, her stomach flip-flopped in place and her heart started pounding.  She quickly stepped past him into the elevator.  "Yes, yes I'm fine," she said a bit breathlessly.  Just before the elevator doors closed completely, she looked up...

...And into a pair of eyes she'd only seen from a distance.  Her own pale green eyes widened in alarm and panic as the brushed steel doors of the elevator closed, sealing her safely inside.  Oh My God... it was him.

Frank's forehead puckered.  He didn't recognize her.  She had a stack of mail in her arms, so she had to live in the building.  But he knew everyone who lived on his floor.  He'd made a habit of introducing himself every time someone moved in.  He felt safer that way and it was good manners.  But this auburn haired vision was new to him.

He looked back down the hall and saw an envelope on the floor in front of his door.  His eyes widened when he realized it wasn't where he'd left his envelope this morning.  Immediately he turned back to the elevator and punched the button.  What if that was her?

"C'mon, c'mon!"  Repeatedly and rapidly he stabbed at the button.  He freeze-framed the image of the woman in his mind.  Shoulder length auburn hair in soft spiral curls, green eyes of an odd shade of pale lime, creamy milk toned skin.  She was just about Alex's height he'd guess, without the heels on... with the heels on she was his height.

The elevator doors opened and he literally rushed in, stabbing at the button for the ground floor.  She couldn't live on a floor below him, there'd be no way of seeing into his bedroom.  What if she didn't live in the building.  Wait, she had to, the mail in her arm.  Maybe not, perhaps she picked up her mail at a remote post box... He hurried the elevator down as he tried to picture her in his mind.  Short black skirt with red roses on it that fluttered when she walked... a black top that showed a peek of her stomach as she took a deep breath, high heeled black sandals that laced up and tied into feminine little bows at her ankles.  WAS that his Hope?

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open.  He pushed out of them before they were fully opened and he rushed into the lobby.  But it was only Gerard that greeted him.

"Mr. Donovan?  You all right Sir?"

"Where is she?"

"Who?"

"The woman who just got off the elevator before me.  About my height, auburn hair, pale skin..."

"Oh, Miss Weathers.  She's already gone up the right elevator.  She was so flustered and pink-cheeked, she said she'd gotten on the wrong elevator.  Poor girl, tried to unlock what she thought was her door and got the shouting of her lifetime.  I think she was in tears.  Such a sensitive lady too."

"What's her apartment number?"

"Now, Mr. Donovan, you know I can't give that to you.  It's against building guidelines."

"Gerard...  I need to know where to find her.  It's important."

Gerard hedged and looked conflicted.  "Mr. Donovan, you know I like you, and I want to help you... but without anything other than 'it's important', I can't give you her number."

Frank sighed and nodded.  He turned back to the elevator and punched the button.  What if that was the mysterious 'Hope'?  Her name was Weathers...

****


	7. Sleepless in Chicago

****

Back in her apartment, Miss Weathers was leaning up against the door and trying not to hyperventilate.  She had literally run from one elevator to the other and jabbed at the button until the doors closed.  That was him!!

She had literally run into him as he came off the elevator, spoken to him, felt his words creep down her spine and send shivers through her body.  Her fingers were still numb.  What was he that he held that kind of power in his voice?

Gingerly she touched her light trench coat where he'd caught her by the shoulders to keep her from falling.  She pulled the jacket off and held the front of it up to her nose and breathed deep.  Jesus he smelled good.  Clean, but spicy, a completely male scent that warmed her down to her toes and fogged her mind.

Was she crossing the line into obsession?  Somehow, she didn't think so.  She hadn't taken anything of his, she had only written letters to him and left them at his door.  And he had written her back, so he wasn't offended.

"With Hope, he said.  Ahh Quills, he signed it with Hope and said that I am what gets him through the day!"  The cream calico cat that had ambled out of the kitchen simply yawned and meowed at her with a bored look on it's face.

She stepped around him and headed to the writing desk in her bedroom.  Once settled down, she took out a piece of paper and opened up one of the cubbies on the desk.  There she pulled out the blown glass fountain pen and the small jar of liquid ink.  The liquid sloshed against the inside, leaving deep velvety purple streaks that glimmered in the light.  Most of her friends thought she was a cornball for using ink and fountain pens like the writers of old times did, but she thought it was classy and a just a bit on the whimsy side.  Besides, the ink smelled good enough to be used as a perfume.

With her blood thrumming in her veins as she set to writing out another letter to Frank, she hummed a soft tune to herself.

Across the open courtyard, reclining back against his headboard, Frank was reading the latest letter from 'Hope'.  However, he felt himself time and again distracted by the mental image of the woman he'd run into coming off of the elevator.  Questions nagged at him and left him with even more questions.  Was that Hope?  If it was, why did she run?  Why was she in tears?  What if he wasn't all that she'd dreamed him up to be?  What if she realized she'd made a mistake?

"Only one way to find out, Donovan." he said softly.  That being, he slid off the bed and pulled out another piece of paper.  But, before he sat down to write, he thought of something else.

He turned towards the bedroom and slowly walked in.  He reached for the lights and made sure that everything was dark before he walked to the window.  His dark eyes searched all of the windows facing his.  Several of them were lit but most were not.  Those that were lit, he peered at intently one by one.  She had to be in the building, he knew it deep down.  But which window was hers?

As she sat writing, she felt the hair on the back of her neck creep up.  She usually got that feeling when someone had snuck up on her at work when her back was turned.  Looking up, she slowly looked around the room to make sure she was alone.  Of course she was, she hadn't let anyone in.  Her pale green eyes widened as they lit on the window.  Without thinking, she reached up and turned the lamp off that sat on her desk.

Frank frowned.  One of the lights just flicked off as he moved his eyes over to it.  He'd seen someone sitting with his or her back to the window.  When he got a good clear look, he saw dark red hair that was pinned back in spiral curls.  The woman stiffened and looked around then hastily turned off the lamp.  Was that Hope's apartment?

"Oh give it a rest Donovan." he growled to himself.  There was way too much of his brain making fun of himself going on.  Shaking his head, he turned and reached for the lights before sitting down at his desk to write his letter.

****


	8. A Rose and A Plan

****

Miss Weathers groaned as the elevator doors opened in front of her.  Work had been hell that day and she summoned all the energy she could to keep from just dragging her feet.  She didn't even have the energy to stop by Frank's door and leave the latest letter.  Perhaps in the morning she could leave early enough and stop by his apartment to drop off the letter.  Why couldn't this building have been built with a connecting hallway between the two sections?  Even if it had been built as a "U" shaped, that would have been OK too...

Even as she reached into her purse for her key, she happened to notice the letter sitting at the toes of her shoes... and the rose.  She blinked for a moment, keys forgotten about as she knelt down to pick the two items up.  Her coat was over her arm and the mail tucked into the crook of her arm as she stood up, the letter and rose in hand.  A cream colored rose in full bloom was laid at her doorstep along with the letter.  Frank had been here...

Quickly she fished out her keys and unlocked her door.  Frank had been to her door, he knew who she was and where she lived.  Strangely enough, she didn't feel panicked or frightened.  Perhaps it was the letter she'd found yesterday that had set her blood pounding and gave her renewed hope that he didn't think she was plumb nuts.

Ignoring Quills and dropping her things on the kitchen table, she opened the letter and wandered into the bedroom as she read it.  The rose was held to her nose as her eyes drank in the words he wrote:

_'At last I know who you are.  I pray that my assumptions are correct, Miss Weathers.  I also pray that this letter, and its gift, has found the right door.___

_'If this is indeed the right lady, then I am relieved beyond words.  I still carry a mental picture of our brief encounter last night.  I find myself, as I work my way through the hours, recalling the color of your eyes, my Hope.  Such a pale shade of green that it reminds me of the first buds of trees in spring.___

_'But I ask myself, if it was you that I bumped into, why were you in tears?  Gerard tells me that he saw you in tears when you changed elevators last night.  Please tell me that it is not my doing dear Hope.  Your eyes, they tell your soul, just as you say mine do.  They were wide in shock or realization as the doors to the elevator closed.  Did you realize that it was I whom you wrote to?  Or did you realize that perhaps I am not all that you thought I would be?'_

Hope smiled as she read the letter, the rose still drifting under her nose as she slid down onto her bed.  Across the courtyard, Frank watched the woman through the window.  He had found the right apartment then.  Disappointment coursed through him after he arrived home to find no letter from her.  Even more disappointment hit him when he saw her lights come on and her with the letter in hand.  He checked his door and found still nothing from his Hope.  Maybe she hadn't written anything for him after finally seeing him in person.

Hope closed her eyes and leaned back on the headboard.  She pulled the rose and letter to her heart even as she felt herself slipping into sleep.  She really should answer his letter, let him know that she had not abandoned him now that she had seen him, heard him, touched him.  Tomorrow... tomorrow she'd write a letter to him and leave it at his door... perhaps with a gift as well.

Frank watched as Miss Weathers leaned back and apparently fell asleep.  A frown creased his forehead as he kept watching and she didn't move.  'Aha...' he thought.  'So that explains it.'  A mischievous thought crossed his mind and he turned from the window.  Maybe she was a light sleeper.

****


	9. Face To Face and Heart To Heart

****

She heard thumping in her dream… why would she hear thumping?  Groggily, she lifted her head off of the pillow and squinted.  The lights were still on?  She didn't remember lying down.  But there the proof was in the rumpled sheets and her bleary vision.

Frank stood in front of the door and looked at his watch.  He'd been knocking for 5 minutes and still no answer.  Maybe she was dead to the world...  He turned to go, pausing only when he heard movement inside the apartment.

Buoyed by the noise, he raised his fist to knock again.  Right as his knuckles were about to strike the door, it opened up.  There, in front of him, was a very sleepy Miss Weathers.

Frank paused, looking her over slowly.  Her auburn spirals were tangled and slightly mussed from sleep, her pale green eyes were half-closed and the clothing she wore was rumpled like she had fallen asleep still completely dressed.

Hope blinked at the bright light from the hallway, then shrieked and slammed the door.  Frank stumbled back, not from being hit by the door, but from surprise.

"Miss Weathers?"

"Uhm, please go away..." came the muffled reply

Frank chuckled softly.  "Miss Weathers, open the door please, I'd like to talk with you."

"I'm really tired and need to go to bed."  Hope groaned and closed her eyes.  What a pathetically lame excuse.

"I do apologize for waking you up.  But, if you do not open the door, then I will push my way in."  Not that he would really, but maybe she'd see reason and be the gentle Lady he'd seen in her letters.

"You… You would NOT!" she gasped.

"Try me.  I really do want to talk with you.  Please open the door and let me do it face to face."

Frank held his breath when no reply was given.  He stood there for precious few minutes.  Maybe she was ignoring him.  His stomach began to sink the longer the silence echoed in the hallway.

Hope was trying to keep from hyperventilating on the other side of the door.  Would he really break the door in?  'Stop it Hope!' she chided herself.  'He is an adult and so are you, so STOP acting like a scared child!'  Tentatively she reached out and grasped the doorknob.

Frank's breath expelled slowly as he heard the door open slowly.  Hope stood there, her hair still mussed and a half-frightened look on her face as she looked at him.

"I won't hurt you." He said softly as he stepped closer.

"I know," she breathed.  She couldn't lift her head to look up at him.  Instead she kept looking at his shoes the closer he got.  The closer he got the faster her breathing got.  By the time he was literally inside the door and mere inches from her, she was near hyperventilation.

"Hope… please calm down.  Why do I scare you so much?" he asked quietly as he stepped to the side and allowed her both some room to breath and some room to close the door.

"You don't.  This does." She answered, her eyes still looking at the carpet.

"What is this then?" Frank gently took her hand off of the door and closed it for her when she didn't move.  She appeared to be absolutely terrified.

Hope closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths of his scent.  Jesus he smelled divine.  All she wanted to do was bury her face in the curve of his neck and breathe in that scent.  But, she could not summon the strength to lift her head.

Frank looked at Hope, studying the stop of her head.  Absently he put his hand under her chin and ever so gently lifted her head up so that he could look her in the eye.  His chocolate brown eyes met her pale green eyes and studied them for what felt like an eternity.  Behind those eyes was the woman who'd touched him heart and soul.  The same woman who had fallen in love with someone she'd never met and that, through her words, caused him to fall in love with her.

"You wrote one time, that love should end with hope."

"Is that what this is, Frank?" she whispered.  "Is that why you are here now?"

"I don't know, Hope."  Frank paused and stepped back a bit.  "What is your real name, by the way?"

"Hope."  Hope blinked and smiled.

Frank found himself warming with her smile.  The simple gesture warmed up her eyes and she literally radiated sunshine when she smiled.  "Seriously?"

"Hope Quinn Weathers, at your service."

****


End file.
